In the author's note to Dracula in Love, Karen Essex asks her readers to take the book "in the spirit of fun and adventure in which it was written". Which I do - it is a clever book, better written than I could have expected, and very thoughtful. I appreciate it - I appreciate what Essex is doing, the very intelligent way in which she is lovingly dialoguing with her source text. This is a legitimately good novel, despite the ill-suited Proust allusion of the title which makes it sound like a cheap romance, and a much warranted critique of Stoker. But I have some problems with it, problems that I have with a great deal of the modern 'reclaiming' of 18th and 19th century Gothic texts. And I am going to voice them, with the assurance that I am, at the same time, taking the book in the spirit in which it was meant.
Dracula in Love is a feminist retelling - or, rather, rewriting - of the story of Dracula, and a good one. It teases out the misogyny and condescension implicit in the original book to create a reclaimed, feminist gothic in which the threat to Mina and Lucy comes, not from some supernatural stranger in the dark night, but from the very husbands and doctors who name themselves their protectors. This is not an unknown trope - the genre-changing 1979 Frank Langella film of Dracula did a similar thing in a more rudimentary, less developed form. This book does it intelligently, using the real horrors of asylum treatments for hysterical women to turn Van Helsing (he of the canonically bizarre and here terrifying dictum "A brave man's blood is the best thing on this earth when a woman is in trouble") into a mad eugenicist, Seward into a lecherous tyrant, and Holmwood into a callous aristocrat desiring only wealth. All of that - brilliant inversion of the original story. I approve, though wonder if perhaps Essex's point might have been better served by removing the supernatural aspect of the story entirely and making the men's fears of vampirism entirely unjustified.
Because here is where my problem with the novel starts. Essex tries, essentially, to have everything - a biting rewriting of a flawed source text and a lush Victorian gothic love story. Like probably dozens of directors and novelists and fan fiction authors before here, Essex turns the relationship between Dracula and Mina consensual, into a love story that can cross centuries. Essex makes the threat that Helsing and Seward attempt to protect their women from not that of sexual trauma but of sexual liberation. Essex's Mina calls Dracula to her with the unconscious power of her desire - her Lucy is confined and deemed a hysteric for her consensual affair with a rewritten Quincey Morris. There is nothing for Essex's characters to fear in the night and the mist, only exquisite and joyously welcomed pleasure-pain.
And while I like reclaiming, I like centering a story on the agency of a woman's desire, there is something fundamentally problematic about turning a rape narrative into a love story. And I don't know why no one ever brings this up.
Because I believe that, while the gothic novels of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, including Dracula, are about a lot of things (xenophobia, the upholding of sexual/social mores, class issues), at their core, many them are talking about trauma. And since they seem to have been one of the only avenues open to both men and women for the exploration of this issue, eliminating that aspect from them closes a lot of the paths we have for discovering what the men and women of these times actually feared.
And I've said this before and will say it again, but one of the things that will always make me love Dracula, despite all it's problems, is how, in it, Mina is allowed to be traumatized and survive.
This is radical. It doesn't look radical to us now (though how many rape victims in fiction and film and television still die?), but it is. A hundred years before, Clarissa was radical for allowing its heroine to be raped and maintain her selfhood. She died, it's true, but not before escaping Lovelace's control and making detailed instructions for how she should be buried, what should be written on her tomb, who should be allowed access to her body. And these instructions were obeyed. And this was radical. It was radical, even, that she didn't marry her abuser, and I know this may be shocking to you naive modern people, but this was the expectation. For not doing this, Clarissa showed incredible willpower, incredible sense of self.
And then, years pass, and Mina Harker undergoes a symbolic rape. And she doesn't die. She views herself as defiled, yes, 'unclean', she weeps at the thought of tainting her husband with her touch. But rape victims do the same thing now, and the burning of the holy wafer on Mina's forehead is only a literalization of the psychological effects that often go with rape. No, Mina fights. She is weak, and frightened, cursed with a mental connection to her attacker, but she fights to destroy him. And the men around her stand behind her, even with their condescension and casual misogyny. They never say it's her fault, they never waver in their devotion. And, eventually, Mina and her supporters are able to destroy her attacker, even though he is a rich and powerful aristocrat who, in the world outside the gothic novel, probably would never even be jailed for what he had done. Justice is served, and Mina acts as a participating agent in that justice.
Now, why aren't we telling that story?
The fact that Essex doesn't tell it wouldn't bother me if it were not for the fact that, really, no one else is either. I got into an argument with a woman online once who insisted that Dracula, in the original novel, liberates Mina and Lucy. I talked about the lack of consent, how what he does is symbolic rape, and she just kept insisting that being vampires gave Mina and Lucy more power and self-governance than they had as Victorian women. And eventually I just got frustrated and came to this statement - You can't liberate someone by violating them. It just doesn't work.
Essex doesn't have quite that problem - she emphasizes throughout the book Mina and Lucy's enthusiastic consent. But her Dracula still does a hell of a lot of commanding, and her often used trope of the body having one will and the mind another can too often, in other contexts, be a simple mask for rape apology. I also objected to her version of Dracula's vampire wives, who were far too close to the typical stereotype of the demonic, sexually insatiable woman to feel appropriate in the story she was trying to tell. Why not more sisterhood? Why this essentially patriarchal emphasis on jealousy and fidelity?
Anyway. This book was better than I expected and I am glad I read it. That's the only reason I'm being so hard on it.